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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045151">Fractured Moonlight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoups_ahoy/pseuds/scoups_ahoy'>scoups_ahoy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>fractured moonlight [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Enemies That Are Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Established Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Gun Violence, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pining, Pirates, Romance, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Swordfighting, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:02:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoups_ahoy/pseuds/scoups_ahoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>• ☾ •</p>
</div><br/>In 1855, Wen Junhui is the last true Pirate Lord on the seas, with an empire that stretches from the northern shores of Japan to the southern reaches of Indonesia.  He has everything he could ever want: land, power, riches.  But one thing still evades his grasp and a Joseon yangban by the name of Jeon Wonwoo can help him find it.  If Wonwoo will not let his hatred of pirates stand in the way.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Lee Seokmin | DK, Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>fractured moonlight [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064417</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Game of Survival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>oof hello everyone and welcome, officially, to "fractured moonlight"!  this has been my baby since july and i am so excited to finally share it with you guys!  what a labor of love this has been, from the research to the character development and plotting and - well, everything.  so far this has been an absolute joy to write and i can't wait to continue it!  i hope you guys will like it.</p><p>(i recommend reading at least the first two prequels before you read this, if you haven't already; it'll clear a lot up!)</p><p>yes, there will be major character death - as far as i've planned, two of the svts won't make it out of this.  in addition to that, there will also be major character injury and an abundance of minor character death, as well as battle scenes, gun and sword violence, etc. this is a pirate au and i am not holding back so if any of that makes you uncomfortable... well, you have been warned.</p><p>before we begin, a note about the historical accuracy: i have tried to make this as accurate as i can, however due to a lack of historical records on some topics as well as plot devices, not everything you read here will be correct.  this is fiction before it is historical.</p><p>well with all of that out of the way, shall we?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>one: a game of survival</b>
</p><p>
  <span>This time of night, the moon looms high in the sky, looking down upon the world from her elusive perch.  She guides the ships near the Guangzhou Harbor, their white sails reflective of her own paleness.  From tall, mighty masts they flutter, and each of the four ships bears their country’s flag as well: its dark blue edges seem to melt against the moonlit sea, like sizable grains of rice, colored red and white, shivering in the breeze from the sterns.  Tonight, the moon is all these westerners have to direct them; no lights shine from the port, not even a single lantern.  Tonight, under her watchful gaze, they have no idea what awaits them in the harbor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the deck of his own ship, its sails and wood a muted black in the night, Wu Yifan watches the western ships approach.  They’re still too far for the carronades to reach, but in ten minutes’ time, perhaps sooner, that will change.  Then the harbor will be alight with oranges and reds and yellows, the cold sea air choked with grays and black smoke.  And when they’re done here, they’ll return to Wen Junhui and Ningpo, complete their journey by tomorrow night - leaving four drowned ships in their wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns at the sound of the low voice and meets the gaze of his first mate, Yixing.  As always, his handsome features are drawn into that rather odd expression of his, an expression Yifan can still make out in this all but absolute darkness; he’s seen it so often over the last few years.  It’s something not quite relaxed but not quite agitated either.  As if he’s always on edge, expecting the worst - even when there is no need for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are the men ready?” Yifan asks quietly, peering over Yixing’s shoulder.  He sees shapes and shadows moving along the deck, hears soft scuffling and murmurs; the men spread out across the other ships in the port make no noise from here, but if Yifan squints, he can see them moving as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Captain,” Yixing responds in a similar hushed tone.  In case they can be heard by anyone looming in the darkness.  “We’re just waiting on the ships to enter the harbor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan nods, mostly to himself, and turns back around.  Closer still the ships come, but not close enough.  Not yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you… do you really think this will work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, at Yixing’s soft voice, Yifan turns.  Now his eyes, glinting with the reflection of the moon, are on the western ships.  He watches them closely, peering into the darkness, and Yifan can picture the way his brows must be furrowing in his concentration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Junhui believes it will, then so do I,” he murmurs in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yixing looks at him again with those shining eyes, and stray strands of black hair fall into them.  They’re picked up by the breeze and cradled in her delicate hands as they flutter across his face; a shiver runs through Yifan’s body at the sudden cold, finding its way unhindered through the open port.  “But… what if he’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a thought Yifan himself has had more often than he’d like to admit, especially within the last two years or so, and he knows it needs to be banished from his mind.  Wen Junhui is his - </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> - commander.  He’s earned that title through blood and toil, and he’s done right by the men sailing under his colors for seven years now.  More than his brother ever did for them, certainly.  Yifan tells Yixing as such, watching the western ships sail closer to the spot where Yifan knows they’ll have them.  His heart begins to pulse harder in his chest, from the anticipation.  “Do you question Junhui’s orders in front of the others, too, or just me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yixing sighs and it becomes mist in the January air.  “It’s not like that, Yifan, and you know it.  I’m just…  I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>worried.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  After Zhan almost lost his men doing this same thing in Xiamen - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan frowns at the memory and the anger it dredges up in him.  Anger he plans to take out on the westerners in his port, even though it wasn’t their fault.  But if they can hold a group of people accountable for the actions of a few members in it, then so can Yifan.  Until everything evens out.  “That won’t happen to us, Yixing.  I promise you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs again and turns towards the harbor.  Almost immediately his shoulders tighten, his back straightens.  “They’re close enough now, aren’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, the British are in range.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan looks behind him at his men standing ready, nothing but silhouettes in the darkness, and commands them to open fire.  The order is echoed across the rest of the ships, drowned out only by the thunder of cannons.  It pounds through Yifan’s blood as the harbor is, indeed, brightened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing quite like a night on the sea; the stars seem to be brighter out here than anywhere else in the world.  And at this point, Choi Seungcheol’s seen enough of the world to consider himself somewhat of an expert in that regard.  A soft breeze lilts through the sails and his hair and the loose parts of his jeogori, but he’s hardly cold.  Well, perhaps he’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> cold (it is early January after all) but it’s invigorating.  The kind of cold he could get used to if it always comes with such serenity.  Sitting on the deck of his hyopseon, nothing but the rhythmic push and pull of the East Sea in his ears, Seungcheol is alone.  His worries can’t even find him here; they’re back home in Hanseong, maybe.  Or left behind in Malaya.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or waiting for him half an hour away, in Ningpo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From here, he can make out Hangzhou Bay and the ships and buildings that comprise its horizon - and every time his eyes skim across telltale western masts, with their pristine white sails visible from so far away, his heart jumps just enough to make his cheeks grow hot.  Logic reminds him that the ship in question was rid of its white sails and British flag long ago, having traded them in for the colors of Wen Junhui’s Black Flag fleet, but Seungcheol supposes he’s simply so used to seeing Yoon Jeonghan standing on the deck of a (stolen) Royal Navy warship that he just… associates all of them with him now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No doubt it’s a compliment Yoon Jeonghan would love to hear but it’s not one Seungcheol will ever disclose to him.  Especially not tonight.  For tonight is all about business.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like the last </span>
  <em>
    <span>eighty-four</span>
  </em>
  <span> nights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol sighs and shifts so that he’s resting his wrists on the railing between him and the depths of the dark water before him.  Yes, after twelve weeks at sea - twelve weeks spent accompanying King Cheoljong’s favored yangban, Jeon Wonwoo, all across the East and South oceans, because that’s what a naval captain should spend his time doing, evidently - Seungcheol is more than ready to rest.  A stop here and then two more nights till Hanseong.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A knot forms in his throat as he thinks about what awaits him in Hanseong.  An empty home, miles, days away from his family in Taegu.  Days spent in the kyujanggak, trying to find texts he has yet to read while he waits for some sort of mission (any mission at this point; hence the extended yangban guarding) from his commanding officers.  Then he’ll return here in a number of weeks to deliver Joseon’s tribute to the Qing, like he’s been doing for almost two years.  And then back to Hanseong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The more he’s away from it, the less it feels as such.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows Ningpo as well as Hanseong by now.  Could probably walk its streets blindfolded and still figure out where he was when the blindfold was removed.  Knows all the best spots to eat and drink, the best shops, the least crowded areas of the port.  Yes, he could spend days here and never be bored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Preferably with a certain blond man at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, Seungcheol sighs and watches it flutter in the chilly January air.  At least he’ll get to see Jeonghan for a short time tonight.  Kiss his perfect mouth and then… be on his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice tells him that he could stay.  Leave Joseon and the navy the way he’s been wanting to for months now, pledge his loyalty fully to Jeonghan and Wen Junhui.  Spend his days on a western-turned-pirate ship, breathing in the sweet sea air, and then his nights breathing in the scent of Yoon Jeonghan.  But then a louder voice, once he recognizes as particularly boring, reminds him that Junhui needs him in the navy.  So does Jeonghan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staying in Ningpo is not an option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nor would he ever actually consider it; not with his best friends in the world - and the rest of his squad waiting for him back in Hanseong - counting on him to lead them.  Right now, they’re resting below deck, sleeping off twelve weeks at sea.  And when they dock in Hanseong, their hearts will be full because they’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>home.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Not pulled hundreds of miles across the ocean, where they shouldn’t be.  The worst part about it?  Seungcheol can’t even discuss it with them.  Can’t tell them how kind Yoon Jeonghan is.  Can’t tell them what his laugh sounds like or how he relaxes when he sleeps.  Can’t tell them how Wen Junhui made him laugh so hard one time that soju came out of his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Mingyu, Seokmin, Chan - even Wonwoo, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wonwoo, if Seungcheol knows him at all - Yoon Jeonghan and Wen Junhui are enemies, pirates, scum of the earth.  Men to be hunted down and destroyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought leaves a bitter taste in Seungcheol’s mouth and he pulls back from the railing.  Returning to Ningpo is as vexing as it is enjoyable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath, letting the sea air cleanse him from the inside out, letting it clear his mind, and then he stands up.  The waves, this close to the bay and the mouth of the Yong River, aren’t enough to immediately jolt him the moment he’s upright and he takes advantage of this glass they sail on; he heads below deck with quick, purposeful steps.  Partially because he can, partially to alert the others’ consciousness that he is on his way to rouse them.  Little good it does though; by the time he’s woken Wonwoo, Mingyu, Seokmin, and Chan up from their respective rests, they’re all but docked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And once they </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> docked, the latter three are still rubbing sleep from their eyes.  Wonwoo, to his credit, is a rather easy waker.  It took him ten minutes at the most to knot his hair atop his head and tug his white jungchimak over the rest of his hanbok.  The splits in the fabric, at his sides and back, furrow in the sea breeze, making him look rather ghostly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he doesn’t complain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you have to wake us up, hyung?” Chan mumbles as he reaches up to tie half of his black hair into a topknot.  “Aren’t we just here to restock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured you might want to have some time away from the ship,” Seungcheol says, strapping his sword to his hip.  “It’s been a long three weeks since Jakarta.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others follow Seungcheol in gearing up, except Wonwoo; he merely glances at the weapons with distaste plainly etched onto his features.  At this point, after spending three uninterrupted months at sea with him, Seungcheol would be surprised if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> look at them like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What else would he expect from a yangban like Wonwoo?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, hyung!” Seokmin chirps, and the lights in his eyes are as bright as the stars in the sky.  It makes Seungcheol smile and he clasps his shoulder.  “I could go for some of that tofu stuff Vernon sells at the tavern.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he mentions it, Mingyu gasps softly, eyes widening.  “Me too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan merely sighs at their enthusiasm, but it too warms Seungcheol’s heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo, on the other hand, seems less excited.  His gaze, sharp and alert, sweeps over the port in that way that is so perfectly </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wonwoo,</span>
  </em>
  <span> or so Seungcheol has come to realize.  Like Wonwoo’s self, his gaze is quiet, analytical, and Seungcheol wonders how he sees Ningpo.  What a city like this is to a learned, moral yangban like him.  No doubt he can see the many signs advertising brothels from here, their placards written in at least four different languages.  Taverns, too, and western-owned storefronts that boast expensive wares and vanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least they’re not staying long tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After disembarking, the others get away from Seungcheol fairly quickly, though he prefers it that way.  Less lying on his part.  He calls after them like a father though, telling them to keep an eye out and wait for him at the tavern (the few westerners milling about, perhaps on their ways back home, shoot him odd looks as if the Joseon language isn’t one they hear often around here), and then he heads in the opposite direction, further up along the Yong River.  His destination lies maybe a mile ahead, where the Yong meets the Yuyao, and this way is so familiar to him.  Hand on the hilt of his sword, he traces steps he’s made countless times and greets whatever eyes meet his, no matter from where they hail.  At this time of night, not many people are out and about to begin with, but Seungcheol has come to discover that direct eye contact wards away potential enemies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pirates that visit this port are so used to being feared and avoided that they’re generally taken aback when someone not of their crew speaks to them and meets their gazes.  Westerners act like this as well, with their guns plastered to their hips.  Thus, the more confident one is, the less likely they are to be attacked here in Ningpo - unless said confidence becomes </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> much.  It’s a fine line, certainly, one Seungcheol has learned to balance across over many months, to the point where he feels almost at home here now </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being on Wen Junhui’s side helps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol can’t figure out </span>
  <em>
    <span>why,</span>
  </em>
  <span> since it’s technically a secret, but so many people here seem to know where his loyalties lie.  Perhaps it’s because not many travel towards the joining of the rivers so brazenly, with his head held high.  Anyone who matters in Ningpo knows that this all belongs to Wen Junhui.  That the reason everyone here is granted room and existence is not because of some iron-handed, one-sided treaty but because Wen Junhui allows it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Black Flag Fleet was here long before the west and they’ll be here long after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The safehouse looms over the two rivers like a palace and its dark wood shines black in the moonlight.  Lanterns hang from the edges of the curved roof, their red silk bleeding into the night, illuminating the stone steps that lead Seungcheol to his destination.  Here the breeze is a bit stronger, a bit chillier, and it twirls through the hair resting against Seungcheol’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside the main door are four guards, and Seungcheol recognizes them all.  Can call them by their names.  They let him pass without so much as a word, bowing slightly as he moves between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, it’s hardly cold.  A wood fire somewhere outside warms the floor and Seungcheol can feel it as he walks.  Candles and more lanterns are lit, dousing the main room in a warm, cozy glow - and the chatter from the room’s occupants only adds to the intimacy of it all.  Four men Seungcheol knows well - one decidedly better than the rest - lounge on their own couches, spread out across the main room.  They are the epitome of relaxed and affluent, laughing softly as stories are exchanged, hair spilling unencumbered down their shoulders -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol pretends like his heart doesn’t jump once more when he catches sight of familiar golden locks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men are talking quietly in the Qing language, and from the doorway Seungcheol can barely make out what’s being said.  Granted, that could also be due to his shaky grasp on the language (but he’s getting better!).  He thinks he hears Yifan, one of Junhui’s commanders relegated to the South China Sea, say something about... an attack in the Guangzhou Bay?  Seungcheol sighs to himself; this is why he needs to simply stick to tributary passage, so he can know of everything that goes on.  Missions that take him far away from Ningpo only ever result in him feeling left out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... went well enough,” Yifan continues, a cup of baijiu, probably, in his hands.  Every time Seungcheol sees him, he’s drinking it.  “Hardly any casualties on our side, fortunately.  Not as many as Zhan had, at least."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the British?” Junhui asks.  He, too, drinks something, though his glass looks less touched than the others’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smirk he’s given in return must be answer enough; nothing more is said.  So Seungcheol takes this as an opportunity to make his presence known; he steps further into the room and clears his throat.  All four pairs of eyes descend on him and he tries to pretend like he doesn’t notice Jeonghan’s first.  But pretending suddenly becomes so difficult when he’s faced with all the stars in the universe, right here, in their human form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well well well,” Yoon Jeonghan drawls in that low, sweet voice of his, sitting up on his couch, stretching long, graceful limbs.  Seungcheol has to look away to keep his eyes from wandering to places they shouldn’t when there’s company.  “Look who’s here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol catches the words he hasn’t said, can’t say, about how long it’s been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twelve weeks.  Much longer than the usual six.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Seungcheol pretends.  Pretends the knot forming in his throat is nonexistent.  Pretends the aching in his hands, his fingers, his chest is from the sudden shift in temperature when he walked in.  Pretends that the other three men in this room can’t see the way his cheeks heat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bows low, under Wen Junhui’s watchful gaze, and stays quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a day!” Jeonghan exclaims softly.  “First Yifan comes back successfully, and now Seungcheol’s home too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ve returned,” Junhui says in Seungcheol’s native tongue.  Which is probably for the best, given his lack of fluency in Junhui’s; he can understand it well enough but actually speaking it...  He takes this as a sign of respect and lifts his head.  He’s greeted by the smirk that always seems to rest on Junhui’s heart-shaped lips - though it is marred by the thin, pale scar that slants through the right corner of them.  “I hope your journey was as enlightening as the yangban wanted it to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With such a question he’s been given permission to speak, and all eyes are on him - even Yifan’s, and Yanan’s, the fourth man in the room.  Somehow, in these pirates’ presence, Seungcheol is still the same subordinate he is back home in Joseon.  The only difference is he’s less scared of the men in front of him than he is his navy officials.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe it was, yes,” Seungcheol responds, hands clasped behind him, shoulders straight and taut (any other night, any other visit to Ningpo, he could look forward to Jeonghan’s calloused yet soft hands stroking over the muscles in his back, offering relief no one else can seem to give.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re so tense,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d murmur into Seungcheol’s skin.  Like he always does.  But there’s no time tonight).  “Though not for the reasons he was expecting, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found something,” Junhui says, quirking an eyebrow as he, too, sits up.  Leans forward.  Narrows his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol remembers the first time he met Wen Junhui, how utterly terrified he’d been of him.  At that point he’d been sleeping with Jeonghan for about a year, and knew of Junhui from both Jeonghan’s quiet pillow talk and sailors' alarming tales.  He was two very different people in Seungcheol’s mind, diametrically opposite; Jeonghan’s longtime friend and the ruthless Pirate Lord of the East Seas.  But somehow they had merged into one that night, shortly after Jeonghan had asked him to give his absolute loyalty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time they meet, whether it was the first or tonight, Seungcheol is always surprised by how </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span> Junhui reads people.  The way he sits in silence and observes; he’s destroyed plenty of men like this, after a single hour of simply watching them.  Seungcheol knows he is no different; Junhui has had his weakness catalogued for months now and the moment he steps out of line Junhui will use each and every one of them against him.  But for now, he uses them to get information out of him.  To figure out what Seungcheol doesn’t say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s always unnerving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he replies quietly, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Jeonghan sit up straighter.  Tuck his yellow hair behind his ear.  “We… well… if you’ll remember, I told you that Jeon Wonwoo has been all across the East and South seas, yes?  And this journey was to map out what he has seen, for the Joseon king?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol breathes in, trying to plan his words for the least amount of impact possible.  But news like this will hit hard no matter how he phrases it.  “I suppose, during his travels, Wonwoo eventually came across tales of Wen Zhitao’s treasure - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui’s handsome face hardens immediately; it sends Seungcheol’s blood running cold again, despite the heat in the room.  But no one else talks so Seungcheol continues; his voice comes out clearer than he thought it would.  Due to years of breaking bad news to superiors, no doubt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ - and… on these particular travels, with me and my men, he found where it’s buried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he finishes speaking, there is silence.  Not that Seungcheol expected any differently; he’d ran this scenario through his head at least a hundred times since they left Malaya, trying to prepare himself for all the ways in which Wen Junhui would react.  Sometimes, he was happy that someone had found his father’s treasure, or that Seungcheol had delivered the news.  Once or twice Seungcheol had seen his own death in his mind’s eye, since there was no one else Junhui could take his imaginary anger out on.  But generally, Junhui just sat still in his head.  Processing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It perturbs Seungcheol that he still doesn’t have Junhui figured out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said this was merely a cartography mission,” Jeonghan says slowly, quietly, as if testing his words.  Any longing Seungcheol may or may not have seen in his eyes earlier is gone now; he is, regrettably, all business.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was,” Seungcheol responds.  “We weren’t looking for the treasure.  Or, if that was the true nature of this mission, it was kept secret from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yanan raises a slender eyebrow and his gaze seems to pierce.  The way it always does.  What perfect company he is for a man like Junhui; as severe as he is unassuming.  “I thought yangbans were supposed to be… ethical.  Far above things like treasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan snorts.  “Not the yangbans I know.  They’re just as greedy as we are, but their greed is sanctioned by the government through owning land, so it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowable</span>
  </em>
  <span> greed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonwoo’s different,” Seungcheol says, and if twelve weeks with someone can’t make one want to defend them…  “The only time he ever mentioned the treasure was when we reached Malaya.  He said something in passing about it as we docked - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malaya?” Junhui asks in a voice that’s far thicker than Seungcheol’s ever heard from him.  But the expression on his face is indecipherable; Seungcheol can only imagine what he’s thinking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Malaya.”  He doesn’t know enough about Junhui or his father to ascertain what Malaya might mean to him, unfortunately.  So he continues, trying to give as much information as he can.  “We docked and he mentioned that he heard Wen’s treasure was buried there.  He was quiet about it the rest of the journey but I… might have snuck a look at his journal one night.  Saw it mentioned more than once, especially when he wrote about Malaya.  Something about a waterfall I remember passing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mischief glitters in Jeonghan’s gaze when they look at each other, and it’s so familiar to Seungcheol in a way that, strangely, brings comfort.  “Snuck a look into a yangban’s journal?” he asks, with enough mirth to set Seungcheol’s cheeks aflame again.  “Be careful, Captain Choi.  From there it’s a quick, slippery slope into piracy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol resists the urge to roll his eyes fondly at Jeonghan; now is not the time for his antics, soothing as they might be.  So he looks back at Junhui, straightens his shoulders again - but Junhui’s eyes aren’t focused on anything.  He seems to stare through Seungcheol, at some invisible ghost the rest of them cannot see.  Seungcheol can’t help but wonder how much of Wen Zhitao this ghost resembles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment or so of this, Junhui returns to himself, puts that smirk back on his lips, and sighs rather contentedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to need to meet that yangban of yours, Seungcheol,” he says, and the levity in his eyes is disconcerting, to say the least.  In an instant, Seungcheol sees the rest of Wonwoo’s life flash in his mind: tortured by Junhui for all the information he has on Wen Zhitao’s treasure, and then…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t kill him,” he snaps, as if he has the authority to make demands of the pirate lord.  “He’s important to the king, to my country - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since when have you cared about Joseon or its king?” Yifan asks, and the humor in his voice is hollow; it resounds through Seungcheol’s body like a bell being rung, bouncing off of the edges of his bones and his brain, looking for a place to settle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hates that Yifan is right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has a point,” Jeonghan says quietly, and when their eyes meet once more, this time it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> face that heats up, turns the sweetest, softest shade of pink.  Like an azalea in bloom.  “Um, Seungcheol, I mean.”  He looks at Junhui - and Seungcheol lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had pent up.  “You can’t kill this yangban after you get his information, Junhui.  What if the information is wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Junhui says in a way that makes Seungcheol feel foolish for even uttering what he had, “which is why I won’t be killing him at first.  He’ll lead us to the treasure down in Malaya… and then I’ll kill him.  Important or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol sighs, defeated and he knows it.  Now the question that remains: does he go against Junhui’s order to hand Wonwoo over and lose his own life in the process, or does he save himself and deliver Wonwoo to his certain death?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t just give him to you,” he says quietly, “because then my men will know who I am truly loyal to.  It has to look unintentional.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could kidnap him,” Jeonghan suggests, with a brightness to his eyes Seungcheol can’t help but bask in.  “Somewhere in the Yellow Sea.  That way it merely seems like pirates attacking a barely-armed consular ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui looks between them for a moment, lips pursed, and then he nods.  “I’ll accompany you, Jeonghan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a man that hails from Bangkok,” Yifan says.  “It’s not Malaya, obviously, but he knows the area well.  Perhaps he and the rest of my crew could be of use to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Junhui responds as he stands; Jeonghan does so too, in between breaths, as if following Junhui is what he was made to do.  “The less men we have with us, the better.  We don’t want to risk being found out by </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> - western or otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yifan nods and takes a sip of his baijiu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” and a devilish smile curls across Junhui’s lips, tugging the scar with it; Seungcheol shivers, “we’ll have the yangban with us.  He should be more than enough to get us where we need to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, they’re all assuming - Seungcheol included - that Wonwoo will even agree to help.  Entertaining the thought of aiding a pirate might be too much for his ethical yangban principles, and he very well could implode on the spot.  Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>really,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of course, but… but Seungcheol knows Wonwoo.  Has heard him speak ill of pirates on multiple occasions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the very least, this will prove to be interesting for many reasons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seungcheol-ah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head snaps up at the sound of his name and he meets Jeonghan’s warm gaze from where he stands a few feet away; distantly, he feels the others’ eyes on him as well, but they don’t matter as much as Jeonghan.  “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When are you leaving Ningpo?” Junhui asks, forcing Seungcheol to swallow the yearning that’s caught in his throat and pay attention to the matter at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan is going to be the death of him someday, he just knows it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before dawn,” he responds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll follow shortly after, then,” Jeonghan says.  “That way we’ll find you before you reach Hanseong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready your men,” Junhui tells him.  “We set sail at dawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan inclines his head in understanding and he leaves the room like a sea wind, light and quick, carrying Seungcheol’s heart with him.  And in his absence, something in Seungcheol deflates.  He knew he and Jeonghan wouldn’t have much time together tonight but… he’d been hoping for more than </span>
  <em>
    <span>this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s enough to make him feel as if he’s underwater, barely listening to the rest of Junhui’s instructions before he’s dismissed.  After that, it’s back out into the cold.  He’ll head to the tavern with his men, eat something warm, and try to ignore the gnawing in his chest.  He’s overreacting and he knows it: he’ll see Jeonghan again in a day or so, and maybe they can find a way for Seungcheol and his men to accompany them to Malaya.  That way they can make up for lost time.  Secretly, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always, always secretly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol shivers as he walks towards the joining of the rivers, following the Yong.  The fifteen minutes he spent in Junhui’s safehouse have left every other business empty, every other home asleep.  All that guides him along the river are sporadically placed lanterns that flicker in the wind beginning to pick up.  Not a soul is to be found right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathing in, Seungcheol places a hand on the hilt of his sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About a mile to the tavern, that’s all.  He’ll make it and then -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pair of strong, slender hands grabs him from behind, gripping his arms so he can’t reach for his sword - </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck fuck fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Seungcheol’s heart pounds and he struggles in his captor’s grasp.  Knocks his head back to strike at them as he’s tugged into an alley, somewhere the light won’t reach - but his scalp slams against the wood of a building.  Not the skull of the person holding him, their thin body pressed up against him from behind.  Hitting the wood hurts decidedly less than bone but still it sends a jolt of pain through his body -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A low, throaty giggle, as familiar and beautiful as it is irritating, echoes through the night air and into Seungcheol’s ear; his captor is laughing at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jeonghan</span>
  </em>
  <span> is laughing at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Seungcheol splutters, Jeonghan’s hands sliding down his collarbones, his chest, his stomach.  Once more he is pretending; this time that Jeonghan’s touch isn’t exactly what he wants, yet it’s not enough to sate the aching in his bones.  “I could’ve killed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chortles again, breath warming Seungcheol’s neck in a way that leaves goosebumps breaking out across his skin.  “Oh relax, Seungcheol.  As if I would have let you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs heavily but does indeed relax, resting part of his weight against Jeonghan’s lean body, closing his eyes as his hands travel lower.  “Aren’t you supposed to be rousing your men?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, there’s another man I want to rouse first.”  He cups Seungcheol through the few layers he wears, palm hot, even through his clothes, and insistent as he strokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The breath leaves Seungcheol’s body and he tries to laugh it off, tries to retort with another tasteless joke - tries to say something, anything, but it dies in his throat.  Warmth floods his senses; the warmth of Jeonghan’s hand, his breath, the warmth shivering through his veins, pooling inside him, heating up his cheeks at Jeonghan’s scandalous words, their wicked intent.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants,</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants to get Jeonghan alone, in secret, and have his way with him.  Show him what twelve weeks apart does to him.  But all he’s capable of is standing still, stuttering out phrases and words that don’t make sense together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s voice washes over him, bringing him back to his senses, and he stills Jeonghan’s hand with one of his own.  Turns around in his arms and meets his starry eyed gaze in the darkness.  Twelve weeks looms heavy in the space between them and it almost scares Seungcheol into not speaking.  What words can be said, in a situation like this?  They are not friends, they are not lovers… nor are they enemies.  Seungcheol should not long for a man like Jeonghan, whose bed he warms because they are both lonely.  Jeonghan should not long for him either.  And yet…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is not enough to convey what Seungcheol wants to say, what can’t be said, what won’t be said.  So he hopes a kiss will make up for it, instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are together before he can take another breath, and twelve weeks is gone, dissipated into the cold air.  They are all that matters now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeonghan</span>
  </em>
  <span> is in his arms and he’s all that matters.  Seungcheol presses him against the wall, swallows the noises he makes, steals the breath from his lungs, cups his face with hands he knows are not deserving, but Jeonghan lets him anyway.  Encourages him with arms wrapped around his waist, legs spreading open enough for Seungcheol to slide his knee between them.  The heat spreading through his body, choking his veins, seizing his heart and his lungs, is almost too much to bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How he went so long without this, without Yoon Jeonghan, he’ll never know.  But what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> know is he never wants to do it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they break apart they’re both breathing heavily; moonlight reflects off of Jeonghan’s eyes, his slick lips, his sweet skin, and Seungcheol strokes a thumb across his cheekbone.  If Jeonghan will indeed be the death of him, he’ll take it.  Slow and steady, he’ll drown himself in him.  In the oceans in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you,” Jeonghan murmurs, voicing what Seungcheol can’t find the words to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have time.  Not for how thoroughly I want to fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grins, wide and beautiful, strands of his yellow hair getting caught between Seungcheol’s fingers.  “Is that right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol responds with a kiss to his forehead; anything more and he’ll lose himself the way everything inside him wants.  “Tomorrow, when our ships meet - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, the implications make Seungcheol blush, but he frowns at Jeonghan.  “Can you be serious about this?  Please?  This is important and we have to discuss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a final giggle that finds its way into Seungcheol’s heart, whether he wants it or not.  “You’re right.  Go ahead, I’ll behave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol sighs before gathering his bearings.  “Tomorrow, I know the plan is to capture Wonwoo.  But… What about me and my men?  What will you do with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slight smile touches his lips as he thinks about it, wide eyes shining in the moonlight.  “I could send you on your way back to Hanseong, let you tell your superiors what’s happened.  Of course, that would send the Joseon Navy after us and, while my ship could take on half of them - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol snorts at his arrogance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ - I don’t think Junhui wants them anywhere near us.  So I suppose my only option is to take the rest of you as my captives, too.”  Once again, mischief glimmers in his eyes, and Seungcheol’s throat grows tight.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?  Being my captive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as much as you’d enjoy it, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan grins, reaching up to brush loose strands of hair from Seungcheol’s face; they tickle his forehead and his nose but Jeonghan tucks them behind his ear.  “But that way… we can be together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll have to be careful,” Seungcheol murmurs, even though Jeonghan is fully aware of their situation.  “Since the only people who’ll know about us on your ship are Junhui and Jisoo - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t we just… tell everyone?” he asks with a soft pout to his lips, a pout Seungcheol would love to kiss away.  “You trust your men, don’t you?  And I trust mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs once more.  “It’s not that I don’t trust them, I just…  well, think about it from their perspective.  Their captain, sleeping with the most feared pirate in Joseon waters, and working with the Pirate Lord of the East Seas while he’s at it?  I’d rather not spill that little secret while we’re on a ship together for three or four weeks at a time.  They won’t take it well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sighs too and leans up for a soft kiss that resonates within Seungcheol, as much as any desire-filled kiss does.  “I just…  I’m tired of being around you and not being able to do anything about it.  It was hard enough a few minutes ago, to not kiss you in front of Yifan.  And-and to be near you for as long as we will be, but not able to hold you when I want?  Touch you when I want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he whispers, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of course he does.  But he also knows, </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> the risks when he followed Jeonghan to his own safehouse that first night.  They both did; when Seungcheol climbed into his bed and pressed inside him.  Every time they’re together, it raises the stakes that much more until they’re here now: wanting what they shouldn’t want.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loving what they shouldn’t love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol will never say it, he can’t.  Nor will he ever admit it to himself.  It’s too dangerous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll find a way,” he whispers, stroking Jeonghan’s cheekbones with his thumbs again.  Sunkissed skin against his own, all the stars in the sky reflected in Jeonghan’s sweet eyes.  “I promise.  Just… we can’t tell them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he murmurs with a finality that echoes throughout Seungcheol’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It plays with his emotions, brings so much to the surface that he can’t feel for Jeonghan… so he kisses him instead.  Alone in this dark alleyway, they can be what they want.  And Seungcheol doesn’t want to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The walk to the tavern is done mostly in silence; Seokmin is too tired to speak all that much, and he imagines the others are too.  Walking </span>
  <em>
    <span>into</span>
  </em>
  <span> the cold wind along the port doesn’t make things any easier either.  But once they get some food in them, maybe a few sips of soju…  Well, Seokmin imagines they’ll all return to their normal selves.  With the exception of Wonwoo, of course, since brooding in silence </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> his normal self.  Though every time they pass a sign advertising prostitutes or guns or anything ‘unsavory’, he scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokmin’s grateful that he at least manages to choke back his derogatory snorts when they pass by small groups of pirates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time of night, pirates are just about all they’re running into.  It’s too late for most civilians to be milling about, and Seokmin walks with a hand on his sword the way he’s seen Seungcheol do.  Just in case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you can’t be serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo’s sharp, cold voice drags Seokmin out of his head and he slows down, along with the others.  They’ve come to a stop in front of the western church that rests over here, a few yards from the tavern.  Its pristinely white exterior seems to shine beneath the moonlight, sticking out between dark buildings that border on dilapidated.  It’s no doubt one of the best-kept dwellings in this entire city, and Seokmin has always wondered </span>
  <em>
    <span>why.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, hyung?” Mingyu asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo’s eyes flash momentarily at his informality; it’s never a problem with Seungcheol.  “As if this place couldn’t get any worse… there’s a Catholic church here as well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mingyu frowns, looking between Seokmin and Chan, and Seokmin catches what he doesn’t say: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“are we supposed to be upset by that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“We walk by it every time we go to the tavern,” Seokmin says, hoping it might placate Wonwoo because he’s hungry and cold and doesn’t quite want to spend his night staring at the front door of some church.  “During the day there’s people outside and they’re always really nice.  Even when we’re drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me,” Wonwoo murmurs, “that’s the only instance in which people like them are </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokmin glances at the church again, at the steeple atop its roof; it seems to pierce the night sky.  Moments like these, with Wonwoo, never fail to make him feel unsophisticated.  Wonwoo seems to know everything about the world, has seen it all and done it all, and before these last few months the furthest Seokmin ever traveled from home was here, to Ningpo.  But even then, he’s only ever gone to the tavern and a few of the shops.  He’s never even been inside this church before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, people like ‘them’?” Chan asks quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Westerners.”  He spits the word like venom.  “They call us uncivilized and justify their invasions and wars against us because we need to be ‘saved’ by some alleged ‘savior’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”  Seokmin looks back at Wonwoo, at the hardness in his eyes, the tautness to his jaw, and sighs.  “I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, as if to himself, staring still at the church.  As if he could set it ablaze with the fire in his eyes.  “I suppose I wouldn’t mind it half as much if they didn’t use religion as a vessel for their wars.  There’s no justifying that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we keep going?” Mingyu says before more can be spoken, motioning to the tavern with his head.  “Come on, the tavern’s just right over there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan huffs a sigh and all but runs towards the familiar building, Wonwoo following close behind.  Only Mingyu and Seokmin remain, standing before the church.  Looking at it makes something ache inside Seokmin.  He can’t explain it but it’s a feeling he’s known for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  One that he hasn’t been able to quiet down.  Not after leaving his family, not after joining the navy, not after sailing to places he’s never been to before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a beautiful building,” he murmurs to Mingyu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can go in, if you want,” he says back, in the same tone.  “I won’t stop you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks about the nice young men and women - some of them aren’t even westerners - that stand out here during the daytime, all smiles, even in the faces of those that try to hurt them.  He thinks about Wonwoo’s words, about everything he’s never been able to learn, the places he’s never belonged.  What he’s left with is a jumbled mess that settles like ice in his head; sharp and numbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just go in,” Mingyu says.  “I won’t tell Wonwoo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokmin sighs softly but thanks his friend and makes his way up the stone steps leading to the door.  He doesn’t even know if this place is open right now - but if it’s not, he can just turn back around and go to the tavern.  Really, he only wants to see inside.  So maybe he’ll just peek in and then leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs hold of the handle on the door and pulls; it opens, slow and heavy and without a sound, and gives way to a smallish room.  It’s no bigger than the entirety of the hyopseon they sailed here on; maybe seven or eight meters long?  About as wide too.  Hard to tell, though, since most of the space is simply rows of benches.  They face the back of the room, where part of the floor is raised.  Standing upon the raised part are two short sculptures: one of a man, the other of a woman.  From here Seokmin can see their white skin and dark hair - they look to be made of a material he’s never seen before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They, just like the building, are rather beautiful.  Bathed in candlelight, looking with eyes so serene up at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokmin walks in fully and the door closes behind him.  In the newfound quiet, he hears soft murmuring; a lone man sits on one of the benches near the front.  His head is bowed, black hair pulled into a knot atop it, and he’s dressed in a dark-colored jeogori, or as far as Seokmin can tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What is a man from Joseon doing sitting in a western church?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if reading Seokmin’s thoughts, he stops murmuring, sits up straight and turns around to look at him.  The breath suddenly leaves Seokmin’s body, as he’s faced with what can only be the most handsome man he’s ever seen in his life.  Everything about him seems both sharp and soft; the slope of his eyelids, the shape of his pink lips, the straight-backed way he sits.  And then he smiles, and it’s the kind of warmth that comforts Seokmin.  Like at the end of a late night with his friends, when he’s tipsy and full of good food and surrounded by the people he cares about most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look lost,” the man says, in a voice that's as pleasing to the ears as the rush of the ocean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokmin blushes a bit at the observation; is he really so obvious?  “I just… I wanted to come in here and see what it’s like.  Is that okay?  I don't want to disturb you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you can come in.  All are welcome here.”  The man stands up and slides out of the bench to make his way over.  “My name is Joshua.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jo… Joshua?” Seokmin tries, the foreign name sounding heavy on his tongue.  “But aren’t you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.”  He gives a brief, close-lipped smile that seems to sap away some of his warmth; Seokmin feels bad for even bringing it up.  “My parents were Catholic, and I have two names, technically; my Catholic name and my real Joseon name.  Though I only ever use ‘Joshua’ when I’m in this church.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he’s telling the truth, Seokmin doesn’t know much about these western religions in Joseon (again, he’s not as learned as Wonwoo) but going off of the way Wonwoo reacted… well he can only imagine the kind of trouble a name like “Joshua” could get someone into in Joseon.  “I’m Seokmin.  It’s good to meet you, Joshua.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seokmin?”  He raises an eyebrow as his big brown eyes fall to the sword strapped to Seokmin’s hip.  “You’re in the Joseon Navy, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about his tone and his gaze hits Seokmin differently than he feels they should, but he’s not quite sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>why.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “How did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joshua opens his mouth to respond but before he can speak the door opens; this time it slams against the wall and they both jump at the harsh sound as it thunders through the church.  Standing in the doorway are two men; one wears an annoyed yet apologetic face and stands significantly shorter than the other man, whose hand is still on the open door.  His face is pulled into a wide grin that makes his eyes into slits, and they too have their hair in topknots and wear dark jeogori; it’s such a rare color for hanbok and Seokmin isn’t sure what to make of it.  Are they sailors?  Government?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pirates?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can’t be; what would a pirate be doing in a place of worship?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two always do this, you know,” Joshua sighs heavily, crossing his arms over his chest.  “This is supposed to be a place of solitude where the door </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> slam open like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got your attention though, didn’t it,” the taller man says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other rolls his eyes at him and inclines his head towards Joshua, in what Seokmin assumes is an apology.  “We’re leaving soon,” he says - but now his sharp gaze strays to Seokmin.  They look him over rather heavily, narrowing just the slightest, and Seokmin swallows down the shiver that threatens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re sailors, probably.  Maybe ones the navy has tangled with before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Joshua says in response.  “I’ll be right there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Satisfied with his answer, the two men depart, leaving the door open.  It brings in a draft of cold air this time, and Seokmin can’t help but let that shiver pass now.  It trembles through his body, and Joshua gives him a gentle smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I hope I will see you around, then, Seokmin,” he says quietly before he, too, leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Seokmin can only watch him go; the strange aching inside him seems to go with him.  If only just for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Seungcheol gets to the tavern, it’s nearly empty.  His men have a table tucked into a corner, and atop it sit five glasses of soju.  Seungcheol drinks the warm alcohol with grateful thoughts, but decides to only have this single glass; one of them should be as sober as possible tonight.  And, looking at the other four, that person will have to be Seungcheol, by default.  Mingyu and Chan are already red-cheeked, giggling together over something Seungcheol can’t figure out and Seokmin is trying to engage Wonwoo in some sort of increasingly-slurred conversation.  But Wonwoo just sits quietly, nursing his soju with fidgety eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only patrons left in this place, besides them, are pirates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol sighs heavily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung!” Chan chirps suddenly, turning towards Seungcheol with shining eyes.  “Where - </span>
  <em>
    <span>hicc -</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you go tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain business!” Seokmin and Mingyu singsong; this is what they ask every time they stop in Ningpo and Seungcheol always responds with ‘captain business’.  Because he doesn’t know the meaning of the word subtle, apparently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t concern you,” he says, trying to keep his voice as even as possible -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his men latch onto the remnants of authority that cling to his tone; they holler as loud as they can, filling the tavern with the sharp sounds.  Some of the pirates look at them and Seungcheol can even hear Vernon laughing from behind the bar; for the tenth time tonight (Seungcheol really isn’t keeping count), his face heats up.  This time from sheer embarrassment.  But in a show of good faith and camaraderie, he calls Vernon over and the young man approaches with that wide smile that takes up half of his face.  Rests his hands on Chan’s shoulders, since Chan is the only one among them close to Vernon’s tender age of twenty-three, and meets Seungcheol’s gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay here, hyung?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No more alcohol for these three,” he says, motioning to Seokmin, Mingyu, and Chan -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who retaliate with their hands thrown in the air and pouts on their faces as if they’re children, not full-grown men turning thirty within four years.  Vernon merely grins at them, ruffles Chan’s hair (his frown deepens at this), and collects their three cups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to kick you out soon anyway,” he says quietly, holding all the cups with one arm.  His free hand rests on the tabletop - and Seungcheol’s never seen such a grave look on his face in the two years he’s known him.  “Appa’s been having me close up earlier since November.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened in November?” Seungcheol asks, and his words even pique Wonwoo’s attention; he lifts his head, gripping his cup with both hands.  His bony fingers overlap each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vernon sighs and hesitates before dragging another chair to the table.  Sits down, places the cups on the table, and runs a hand through his hair.  Everything about his demeanor screams </span>
  <em>
    <span>stress,</span>
  </em>
  <span> from his furrowed brows to the tense set of his jaw and the rigidness of his back.  It leaves a sour taste in Seungcheol’s mouth, as Vernon is without a doubt the most laid back person he knows.  For something to affect him this much…  “British officials have started coming here more often,” he murmurs.  “Harassing me and the other employees, asking us for information about pirates.  I don’t know, I guess they’re not happy that Wen Junhui’s been attacking their shit lately.  But… well, they came in late one night, back in November.  Ended up starting a fight that left a few of their men and some pirates… dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol’s blood turns ice cold, for the second time that night, and he doesn’t know what to say, what to even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  If the westerners are upset with Junhui that they’re fighting and killing pirates in a free port tavern… well, it won’t be long before something worse happens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Big brown eyes full of stars flash through his mind and he bites his lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Serves all of them right,” Wonwoo mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vernon raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t respond; the sigh he gives instead mingles with the silence around the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just…” Seungcheol tries, reaching out to touch Vernon’s arm, “make sure you and your family stay safe.  Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods solemnly, staring at the grooves etched into the wooden tabletop.  “I don’t - I don’t really mind the pirates that come through here, you know?  They always have such interesting stories and my parents and I don’t want for anything because of their money and… and they never hurt us.  I-I know they hurt others and I know how they get their money but…  Some of them are good people.  Just in bad situations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is tight with emotion, and Seungcheol wonders who he’s thinking of.  He can’t argue with that logic, not when he’s all but in love with one of the most ruthless pirates alive.  But he knows others would, and do, including Wonwoo.  Including his men.  Heaving a sigh, Seungcheol stands from the table.  “Come on,” he says quietly.  “We should head out anyway.  Get back to Hanseong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four of them stand up too, Mingyu, Seokmin, and Chan clasping Vernon’s shoulder as they file out.  He wishes them safe travels in a tone that’s far more forlorn than Seungcheol would like it to be and then they’re back outside in the chilly air, in the empty streets.  The moon hangs high, and she guides them back to the ship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s is nearby; its tall, black-flagged mast can be spotted so easily, if one knows to look for it… and for a moment, Seungcheol does.  Just stands on the dock and gazes at its silhouette.  They’ll meet soon enough and then Seungcheol will have Jeonghan in his sights for several weeks.  He won’t be able to go where Seungcheol will lose track of him.  Seungcheol won’t have to worry, like he always, always does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up at Seokmin’s gentle voice and finds him standing a couple yards away, on the deck of their hyopseon.  Looking at Seungcheol with red cheeks and knitted brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, his men are his priority.  Not Jeonghan.  So he boards the boat without a look back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If someone had told Alden Isaacs (Fleet Admiral in Her Majesty's Royal Navy, thank you very much) a year ago that he’d be in some seedy Shanghai pub, searching out an elusive Qing assassin to cut a deal with him - well, he’d have laughed in that person’s face.  Told them they were being a fool.  And yet… here he is.  Dressed in plainclothes that hide his cutlass, making his way through this poorly-lit place to find the one man that can help him.  Beside him, one of his subordinates, a captain by the name of Turner, scans the tavern with disgust twisting up his features.  But Isaacs can hardly blame him; who knows what lurks in these shadows, whether they are human or smaller than the eye can see?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nestled in the very back of this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>establishment</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a slender man.  He has a table all to himself, black boots shining in the flickering candlelight as he props them up on the wooden top.  His dark hair flows longer than Isaacs has ever seen on a Qing man, outside of the standard Manchu queue, down his chest and stomach, blending into the ebony clothes he wears.  Long, thin fingers dance across the jewelled hilt of the knife in his hands.  And those </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Severe and brilliant, they seem to cut through Isaacs the moment they land on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xu Minghao was recommended to him by anyone he talked to in all of Eastern and Southern Asia, his name spoken with the sort of hushed fear Isaacs has only ever come across in a church.  As if he was some omniscient being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, he figures, that comes with the territory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xu Minghao does not say a single word when they approach his table; he merely glowers at them with eyes blacker than night, colder than ice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turner shifts his weight quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isaacs swallows down his fear; this is the job they’ve been chosen to do.  “I was told I would find you here,” he says in lieu of Minghao’s silence.  “I have a deal for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On whose authority?” he asks in accented English, before Turner can translate for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Isaacs is hardly surprised; one doesn’t attain the status of </span>
  <em>
    <span>most feared - and expensive - assassin in the East</span>
  </em>
  <span> without knowing the languages around him.  So he answers his question.  “Britain’s, France’s, Holland’s, the United States’, even your own country.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the corners of his lips turns up for the briefest of moments.  “I see.  And you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He resists the urge to respond with his full title and settles for his name and rank instead.  Turner does the same, eyeing Minghao with the type of fear Isaacs assumes he finds amusing; his smirk returns when he glances at Turner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is it you need killed, Isaacs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffs a bit at the lack of formality; Minghao can’t even deign himself to address him as ‘admiral’.  But what else did he expect, truly?  “Before I tell you, let me say this.  I have spoken to representatives of the Qing crown and they have passed this message along.  If you succeed in this mission, you will be granted a full pardon for all the crimes you have committed up until this point, as well as this one, and you’ll be paid five times your going rate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raising a slender eyebrow, Minghao leans forward just a bit.  “Who am I killing for such a payment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wen Junhui,” he says, “the Pirate Lord of the East Seas.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Between the Wars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ahhh sorry this took so long but we've got about 8.2k today woohoo!</p><p>also this should go without saying but i thought i'd make a note anyway: the pirates in this au (*cough*junhui*cough*) aren't great guys all the time and they might........ do not nice things from time to time, please keep that in mind :)</p><p>enjoy! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>two: between the wars</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Seungcheol and Jeonghan exit the safehouse, Yifan isn’t far behind and he leaves Junhui and Yanan sitting in a simple silence.  It’s one that is borne from years of knowing, years of intimacy, years of being around the other.  They do not need to waste time and fill space with unnecessary words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui treasures it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And in this silence, he reclines in the generous warmth and comfort the couch offers and drinks down a few sips of baijiu.  In this silence, he thinks.  Within the hour he will head for Jeonghan’s ship and prepare for the journey ahead but for now, all he wants to do is relish in the little luxuries he always takes for granted when he isn’t at sea.  Serenity, heated buildings, the stillness of the floors.  He has been commander far too long, spending his time barking orders and overseeing missions from the shore; this journey will do him well, he knows.  And, with any luck, he’ll come back richer, adding more to the legend already surrounding his name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yanan gives a soft sigh and Junhui takes it for what it is: a pointed sound.  Again, this from years of knowing, of intimacy, of being around the other.  He knows Yanan like the pounding of his heart, the breath in his lungs; knows he takes time when he speaks, knows he weighs each possible ounce of his words before he utters them.  So Junhui looks at him and waits, patiently.  His pretty eyes are elsewhere, unfocused as they rest on the table between them; it holds Jeonghan’s and Yifan’s discarded drinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assume I am to remain here while you go?” he finally asks, glancing up at Junhui.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Junhui says; he doesn’t even need to think about it.  “I need you here.  I’ve no idea how long this is going to take and someone needs to be here to check on everything - not just the commanders and the crews, but the refugee camps here and in Shanghai, too.  And I know I can count on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yanan nods quietly; it lasts a few moments longer than it should, and Junhui recognizes this as well.  There is something more on Yanan’s mind, something he must be reluctant to speak aloud.  Junhui thinks he has an idea of what it is - it’s been weighing on him, too, in the moments since Seungcheol told them what his yangban had found.  But he learned long ago to never think about his father, lest he wants to be saddled with the vexatious feelings it brings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yanan must notice the look on his face; he raises a brow before sighing again.  “Look, you’re in charge, you’re an adult, I can’t - I can’t stop you from doing things anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words give Junhui something new to think about and he smiles as memories spring to mind; Yanan always the safer one of the two, urging Junhui to think more clearly before he acts.  “As if I ever listened to you, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corners of Yanan’s lips turn up for the briefest of moments and they take Junhui’s heart with them; he feels lighter, warmer.  “No, I suppose you don’t.  But I want you to listen to me now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui raises a brow but sits back, resisting the urge to completely shut down; Yanan has asked him to listen and he will.  Even though they have not been lovers in years, Yanan still means the world to him - anything he deems serious is serious in Junhui’s eyes as well (even though he may not like it).  So he sits quietly and waits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t lose yourself on this journey, Junhui,” Yanan whispers, sounding far away somehow.  Stuck on some memory that he can’t forget.  “Whatever you find, whatever comes of this… promise me you won’t let him get to you.  The way you have for - for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Him.  Junhui sighs heavily and looks away; the shining in Yanan’s eyes, captured among the waning candles around them, makes his heart hurt and he can’t take it.  Yanan, of course, is right - and Junhui can’t take that either.  His pride, angry and defensive, flares up stronger than he wants and he almost snaps at Yanan.  Tells him that he doesn’t have to worry, Junhui isn’t some insecure little boy anymore.  But that would be ignoring the truth and lying to himself.  That would be hurtful to the man he treasures most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise, Yanan,” he murmurs instead, meeting his gaze once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tears in Yanan’s eyes, tears he won’t shed, are blinked away rapidly and he nods once.  “Jeonghan will be there if you need him.  And when you return you’ll officially be the richest man on the seas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How easily he goes from one subject to the next, allowing himself the necessary emotions - and then he bottles them back up for safekeeping, for the next time.  It’s something Junhui has always been jealous of, as someone with decidedly less control over his feelings.  He sighs softly and stands from the couch, stretching tensed arms over his head; it doesn’t help.  “I need to leave and join Jeonghan and his men.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yanan nods once more.  “Any last orders?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui thinks about it for a moment - but </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a moment, or else he might lose his mind.  There is always so much to do and plan and organize, and he’ll readily admit that leaving Ningpo behind for at least a month and a half is weighing on him.  In the midst of their battles against the westerners, Junhui is all but abandoning his men, trusting them on their own.  Like a parent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Just coordinate with Yuta on the patrols outside Hakata,” he says, “and make sure Zhan doesn’t do anything reckless until I return.  I know Yibo is with him but there’s only so much he can do as first mate; I can’t lose any more men near Taiwan.  And have Qian send some men to Guangzhou, for Yifan.  Just in case.  Once the British learn we sank ten of their ships, they’re going to retaliate.  Especially with how close the harbor is to Hong Kong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile that touches Yanan’s lips is gentle and obedient; he bows his head in acknowledgment.  “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They share a look and then Junhui exits the safehouse wordlessly.  In his younger years, when he was far more sentimental, he used to balk at the thought of leaving a loved one behind without declarations of fondness.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll miss you.”  “I love you.”  “Be safe.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> he used to feel that way; and for the same reason, he stopped saying such things.  Too many times he bid friends and family and lovers goodbye only to have those be the last words they ever heard from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Wen Zhitao died, rumors touched Junhui’s ears: that he’d been cursed.  That the deities above, forces none of them could fathom, condemned Zhitao for piracy, for the lives and land and treasure he stole.  People said the same of Litao, that it led him to the executioner’s blade - now Junhui has heard similar words about </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  That that is why his mother died so young.  Why he fights a seemingly unwinnable war against the westerners now.  And even though Junhui doesn’t quite believe in spirituality of any sort, he has stopped risking it.  For if he is indeed cursed, no doubt these vengeful gods hear his words.  No doubt they knew how much he adored his mother and all the others - because he told them.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll miss you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Be safe.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So he leaves Yanan with orders still ringing in his ears, instead of something softer; it is easier this way.  For everyone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just after dawn, they set sail.  Behind Junhui, Jeonghan’s men fall into habit; the words and commands they bark become a dull buzz in the background as he stands on the bow.  It’s an impressive thing, really, and Junhui’s always left in quiet amazement at how </span>
  <em>
    <span>tall</span>
  </em>
  <span> this ship is every time he comes aboard.  He would never admit it, but the British know how to build a ship.  Standing atop three decks as opposed to one or two, Junhui feels more powerful than he has on any war junk.  All the way up here, the wind is different.  It whips through his hair and hanfu quicker, sharp and clear against his skin, in his ears.  And the </span>
  <em>
    <span>view</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Nothing but pale blue glass as far as the eye can see.  It nestles itself against the soft pink of the sky, as the sun works its way up to light, and Junhui breathes in deeply.  Closes his eyes.  Lets out his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t exactly pinpoint when he stopped being frightened by the ocean, but over the years as he grew, as his power grew, he has just… learned to cope with it.  Learned to accept it.  He might own the seas from Hanseong to Jakarta, but he does not control them.  And once he came to that conclusion, his fear lessened.  He started to see the ocean as an equal, if not superior to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, if it’s been weeks or months since he stepped foot on a ship, he’ll find himself missing it.  There’s a certain kind of peace and solitude that comes with the sea, even if one is surrounded by ten, twenty, thirty other men confined to the same hunk of floating wood for an extended period of time.  It’s the gentleness of the waves, the way the breeze dances through the sails, through hair and clothes.  It’s in the way that one feels so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span> out on the sea.  Like they are the only people in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something tells Junhui that he won’t want to return to land when this is all over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps sound behind him, breaking his reverie, but he does not look back.  He recognizes those steps as Jeonghan’s and he simply waits for him to speak, gazing at the ocean in front of them, at the pinks and blues mingling into lavender at the edge of the world.  They’re far enough away from Ningpo’s port, far enough away from other ships and people that Junhui’s chest unwinds and he lets out a deep breath he was unaware he’d been keeping pent up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re only a few hours behind Captain Choi and his men,” Jeonghan finally says, and there’s a note of repressed emotion in his voice that Junhui could blame on the beauty of the open waters stretching kilometers before them - if he didn’t know the truth.  “I imagine we’ll catch up to them outside Jeju.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui smirks to himself, unable to help it.  “Will you imprison the good captain, too?  Or is he to run back to Hanseong?” he asks, turning towards his friend to catch the telltale blush that creeps along his freckled, sunkissed cheeks.  Truthfully, he already knows the answer - but making Jeonghan squirm like this is one of his favorite hobbies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We discussed it privately before he left,” Jeonghan murmurs, glancing over his shoulder at his men.  They’re all busy attending to their duties or conversing amongst themselves; not a single one of them is within earshot.  But still, Jeonghan lowers his voice.  Glances around with sneaky eyes, like a child that knows he’s doing something wrong.  “We decided that… if he and his squad were to return to their superiors without the yangban a search party would be sent out.  And it might contain more men than we’re equipped to deal with.  Or that we want trailing us to Malaya.  So, yes, I will be taking everyone on the hyeopseon as my prisoners.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he finishes speaking, a smile breaks out across his face.  He’s quick to contain it, to force it into something less emotional - but Junhui sees it nonetheless.  And he smirks in response.  How giddy Jeonghan is to have Seungcheol aboard his ship; it brings a light to his eyes that makes him seem ten years younger.  “I see.  And I imagine you’ll be giving Seungcheol your quarters?  I'm sure having sex in the brig isn't preferred, especially with his men hanging around."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut your mouth,” Jeonghan hisses in response, and his blush deepens as he gazes back across the water.  Perhaps to avoid Junhui’s eyes.  It’s a side of him only Junhui gets to see; flustered and cautious, choosing his words and actions with great care.  He’s not even certain Seungcheol knows this part of Jeonghan, even if they are far closer than Junhui ever thought they’d be.  “I’ll…  I planned on letting him use the empty officer’s quarters on the third deck, as a show of honor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He falls into silence afterwards, long, thin fingers coming up to pull at a loose thread on his shirt, and Junhui sighs to himself.  He knows, from experience, that insisting Jeonghan and Seungcheol are making this out to be more than it is won’t help the situation.  That Jeonghan will rail against anything he says with arguments that sound far more rehearsed than they should be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We can’t make it public; his men would never forgive him.  And mine would not understand.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Junhui’s heard it so often that Jeonghan’s voice echoes through his head even now; he also knows that there is nothing he can do.  Jeonghan will do as he wishes and Junhui has to let him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a parent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though Jeonghan is technically older than him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui sighs softly and steps closer, leaning against Jeonghan.  They share each other’s weight for a few moments in a strange sort of embrace that can’t quite be </span>
  <em>
    <span>called</span>
  </em>
  <span> an embrace, but it’s enough for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know your secret won’t last for much longer,” Junhui murmurs, gazing at waters that are, slowly but surely, turning a brighter blue.  They match the waking sky, cloudless, endless.  “There’s only so much that can go unnoticed or be explained away with everyone occupying this ship for weeks on end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Jeonghan whispers, and his voice breaks just enough at the edge; Junhui pretends not to notice.  “But I just… I want one more night with him, where it’s only us.  It’s been so long and I…”  He sighs and reaches out to hold the railing in front of him; his knuckles are stark white against the dark wood.  “We’ll-we’ll deal with the consequences when they come.  But not right now.  He’s not ready.  I’m… not ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui nods and they both fall silent, looking out across the open sea, at the sun steadily rising higher.  There’s a note of redness in its vibrancy, as if a fire has been started across its surface.  It leaves an uneasy feeling in Junhui’s throat that he can’t swallow down; red suns are as daunting as they are rare, and he can’t help but wonder what will come of this journey, searching for his father’s treasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice in his head, the one that sounds so much like Yanan, tells him to come home, to abandon it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere out there lies his father’s last deed, his last secrets, and Junhui will find them.  No matter the cost.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Jeju is in their line of sight, rising up out of the endless sea like an oasis of land, it is nearing night and Jeonghan’s mind flutters ceaselessly.  Restless eyes scan the waters, the horizon, for a familiar hyeopseon - and when he sees it, his heart threatens to burst out of his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just another hour, perhaps less, and he’ll be back in Jeonghan’s arms.  Where he belongs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns away from the port railing and meets Jisoo’s eyes, shining in the losing light.  He stands stoically, quietly, waiting for Jeonghan to address him.  The perfect first mate.  “We’re close,” Jeonghan tells him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we going to fire on them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan looks back at the hyeopseon, at the figures he can barely make out from so far away, pretending his heart does not throb in his chest.  “No.  It’s a tiny little thing, not even worth the firepower; let’s get close enough to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seungcheol will cooperate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he snaps without even thinking, but it is a legitimate concern and he sighs once he stops to think over it.  “He will, and his men and the yangban should follow suit.  But if they don’t, let me handle it.  We don’t want any deaths today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisoo shifts as he stands beside him and Jeonghan bites his tongue, quite literally, waiting for him to speak.  To say what is doubtlessly on his mind.  And while he waits, the wind curls through his hair, picking up speed as they near land.  But it is a cold wind, an unforgiving wind, and he holds back a shiver.  “You mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t want any deaths today,” Jisoo finally says, not unkindly.  “What do the rest of us care if some Joseon navy men don’t get to see the sun tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All that I’m trying to say,” and his voice grows lower, as if trying to soften a blow; Jeonghan hates it, “is don’t let your feelings for Seungcheol cloud your judgment.  Now, and later.  You are a pirate captain first and foremost; you must do what needs to be done before all else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sighs heavily, and he knows Jisoo is right.  They’re practically at war: with the Qing, the west, even Joseon, and now is not the time for weakness.  “You’re lucky I hold you in such high regard,” he mutters, “otherwise I’d throw you off the edge of this ship right now for insubordination.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’d have a mutiny on your hands afterwards.”  But now there’s light in Jisoo’s tone and Jeonghan knows everything he says comes from a place of intimacy, of camaraderie.  Just like Junhui.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wishes they wouldn’t remind him constantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Inform the crew that we’ll be… stopping for a moment,” he says, effectively ending the conversation - and Jisoo’s back straightens, his face hardening into something more neutral, if not glacial.  “They’re to stand down unless I say something.  Understood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Captain,” he murmurs, inclining his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he is gone, heading towards the helm to make the announcement, but it fades to background noise as Jeonghan looks back across the water, at the hyeopseon steadily coming closer.  It seems to be stationary now and Jeonghan wonders if Seungcheol sees them, if… if his men will come quietly.  He hopes they will accept this fate and not do anything stupid, or Jeonghan will indeed be forced to act.  And he knows it’d only drive Seungcheol further away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within half an hour they reach the hyeopseon’s side and Jeonghan inhales slowly, forcing his features to harden into something cold and detached as he exhales.  But the stars shine so beautifully in Seungcheol’s wide eyes even from so far away, reminding him of that very first night, and he almost loses his composure.  His fingers tingle restlessly as they wrap around the railing, aching to reach out and touch, to feel familiar warmth beneath his hands again.  To undress and worship skin bathed in moonlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the thoughts come he pushes them away - now is not the time - and focuses instead on the horror and grim realization widening the eyes of Seungcheol’s subordinates.  Slack-jawed, they stare up at him and the crew and the ship from their tiny little hyeopseon, hands immediately flying to swords strapped to their hips.  Only the yangban glares, eyes hard as his jungchimak trembles in the breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s perhaps twenty-five feet between Jeonghan’s top deck and theirs and, to make up for it, Jeonghan speaks loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, it can only add to the intimidation and he has to admit, he likes the way Seungcheol’s men look at him.  No matter who it is, instilling fear in someone’s heart always makes Jeonghan feel alive in some twisted, morbid way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, well, well,” he drawls, much like he had last night when Seungcheol returned home.  “Is that Captain Choi Seungcheol I see, all the way down there?  What happened to your panokseon, captain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, pirate?” he bites back, and he actually sounds angry.  It clashes sweetly with the softness in his eyes.  “We are no threat to you; just let us continue on our way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan can’t help it; he almost smiles.  Does Seungcheol think that would work if they weren’t sleeping together?  For all the time he’s spent among pirates he still has no idea how their minds work.  “As much as I would love to, it seems the Pirate Lord here wants your yangban for something and I’ve been instructed to collect him.  I’m sure you understand, duty and all.  So if the five of you could kindly board the boat we’re sending down, that would be lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And for what reason would we comply with such demands, pirate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keeping in character, Jeonghan laughs; it’s rather easy to do so when the navy men draw their swords and try to look threatening, as if Jeonghan’s crew isn’t at least six times the size of their own.  “I’ve got more guns than you and two sharpshooters who could kill all of you before your next breath.  So either bring the yangban to us or we’ll come and get him ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know who I am?” the yangban calls back, whose name is Wonwoo if Jeonghan remembers correctly, eyes straying to Junhui at Jeonghan’s side.  “Or that I was with Captain Choi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his credit, the yangban is poised and composed, as if they were merely having a conversation and not threatening his life.  Quite literally the exact opposite of Seungcheol, who’d stuttered out nonsense when he met Jeonghan, frightened by the fact that Wen Junhui knew who he was.  But this yangban just stares back with a rigid spine and an icy confidence Jeonghan has seen only in one other person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have hands and eyes from Jakarta to Hanseong, yangban,” Junhui says, and Jeonghan wishes he knew how he manages to seem so serene and withdrawn in every situation.  They could be staring down the entirety of the Royal Navy and Junhui would simply blink at them.  It’s astounding in the most awe-inspiring way.  “And if you want your little navy envoy here to make it to dawn, you’ll comply.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no room for argument in his tone and within minutes Seungcheol and his men are climbing aboard the auxiliary boat, murmuring quietly to each other - and Jeonghan comes away from the railing to greet them, more or less, as is his duty as captain.  He’ll force them to surrender their weapons and then he’ll instruct Jonghyun, Dongho, and Sejun to bring them to the brig.  Just like every prisoner they’ve ever taken.  Except none of the other prisoners made Jeonghan feel the way Seungcheol does; he watches Seungcheol lead the others onto the ship, watches the way he whispers to them as he ensures they step from the boat without harm, watches the way he comes to stand before Jeonghan and Junhui and twenty-five other pirates, head held high.  Jeonghan’s heart soars at the same time that it falls and he meets Seungcheol’s quiet gaze.  Up close the stars in his eyes are so much brighter and Jeonghan swallows against the hoarseness climbing his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now the distance between them is perhaps only a foot and a half but it still feels insurmountable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hand over your weapons,” he says quietly, not looking away from Seungcheol’s gaze.  “Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind Jeonghan, Wonshik steps forward to claim them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course Seungcheol does as he’s told, and Jeonghan is certain that, even if they were not on the same side, he would still acquiesce; Captain Choi Seungcheol is a noble man, one of honor, and Jeonghan admires it as much as it infuriates him.  But it commands respect nonetheless; his men follow his actions, and when Wonshik demands the yangban’s weapons, he is quickly calmed down by Seungcheol’s quick and levelheaded explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yangbans don’t carry weapons; they are peaceful, he tells Wonshik… but there’s nothing about this man that seems </span>
  <em>
    <span>peaceful.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Sharp, catlike eyes flick about uneasily, narrowed with scrutiny, even in the half-light the ship’s lanterns provide.  Long fingers curl into fists at his side but not out of nervousness.  No, he’s analyzing, thinking, assessing.  The way yangbans tend to do.  So wrapped up in their morals and their studies, they assume everything fits a mold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan already doesn’t like him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jonghyun, Dongho, Sejun,” he calls quietly, refusing to look away from Wonwoo and his esoteric eyes.  “Leave the yangban and take the rest of them down to the brig.  The captain shall have the third deck officers’ quarters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if cued by some invisible playwright, Jeonghan sees several heads snap in his direction but he pays them no mind.  Not as the yangban meets his gaze and raises an eyebrow.  Just for a moment.  Like he was hardly expecting that.  And it brings a smirk to Jeonghan’s lips; he’s content that his emotional weaknesses might be surprising or unpredictable to this man.  Anything to undermine a yangban.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir?” Jonghyun asks, forcing him from his thoughts, and he faces his crew with a heavy sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?  I’m not without honor,” he says, turning his head to look at Seungcheol again.  His handsome face is set neutrally but something shines in his eyes that sparks embers in Jeonghan’s heart and he wants the rest of them gone.  Wants night to come fully and settle on the ship with the tiredness it brings so that he and Seungcheol can have some time alone.  “But if the captain wishes to stay with his men in the cold, damp brig - ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would be rude of me to decline such a gracious host,” he says quietly, but not without sarcasm.  Whether he’s playing into the situation or not, Jeonghan doesn’t know - but he likes it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of his men, the shortest one, frowns.  Curious, sharp eyes flit between Seungcheol and Jeonghan, perhaps in search of an answer, a reason why.  “Hyung - ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol glances at him sharply, like a father might scold his son.  “Don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It does the job and the man swallows as he goes back to standing still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have your orders,” Jisoo says pointedly to Jonghyun, Dongho, and Sejun - and they follow said orders, coming to round up their four new prisoners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan barely shares a last look with Seungcheol before he’s led down into the innards of the ship with the rest of his men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving only the yangban.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan takes a breath and looks at the man, who seems so small and apprehensive now that the rest of his allies are gone.  It’s almost… pathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo gulps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get right to the point,” Junhui says without preamble, stepping forward to command attention the way he excels at.  In such a presence the yangban stumbles back some - but he’s caught by Soonyoung and Wonshik, who hold him in place, unrelenting hands on his shoulders.  It doesn’t deter Junhui at all; he only stops when he’s a breath away from the other man, towering over him somehow even though they’re the same height, and the only sound that breaks the silence is that of the waves rocking the ship.  No one breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even Jeonghan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have something I want, yangban,” Junhui says quietly, menacingly.  “Information.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo gulps again, eyes restless once more, searching Junhui’s face like he might find his salvation there.  “How did you find out about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he’s smart enough to not feign ignorance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter how I found out,” Junhui snaps.  “What matters is that you know where Wen Zhitao’s treasure is.  And you’re going to take me to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Wonwoo snaps in response, tossing all of his intelligence overboard in one single word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sighs, and he’s glad Seungcheol isn’t here.  He’d either try to reason with the yangban or Junhui - or both.  And as much as Junhui enjoys having him around… well, there’s no getting in between what he wants and what’s stopping him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Junhui repeats, raising a brow, and a dangerous smile twitches on his lips.  A smile Jeonghan knows well enough.  “I assumed you’d resist; I’ve heard enough about you to know how you work, Jeon Wonwoo.  You consider yourself to be rather ethical and learned, right?  Too ethical to work with a pirate, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The yangban’s brows furrow, lips curving downward in a frown, and Jeonghan bites back a smile.  No doubt he wasn’t expecting that either.  “How - ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui cuts him off, ignoring the question as if Wonwoo had never had the chance to even open his mouth.  “You see, yangban, I can’t accept </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> for an answer.  And I understand it’s a difficult choice to make for someone like you, but I might have a way to make it easier on your precious morals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smirk ghosting his lips turns into something far more tangible and it sends a shiver down Jeonghan’s spine.  Whatever he has planned, they never discussed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And something tells him that was for a reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Starting tomorrow,” he says coolly, “every night that you have not agreed to help me, I’ll kill one of the navy men you’re traveling with, in front of your eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s heart drops, becoming a knot in his stomach, and he can’t help the gasp that escapes his lips.  Junhui’s bluffing to get Wonwoo where he wants him, he has to be, he has to be -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if I get through all four of them and you still haven’t agreed, then I’ll have to turn you over to Jonghyun, Captain Yoon’s quartermaster.”  He smiles and it’s dizzyingly vicious, even without the added threat.  “I’ve never met another person who is as… skilled as handing out lashes as he is.  By the time he’s finished with you, you’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to let you help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence descends, then, and Jeonghan can’t even hear the waves this time.  It’s as if they’ve been daunted into quietness as well, afraid to make any sudden sounds or movements on the off chance that they might also face Junhui’s wrath.  Jeonghan glances between him and Wonwoo trying to decide if Junhui means what he’s saying; if he plans to follow through on these threats.  If he does… Jeonghan could lose one of the people that’s actually worth something to him.  To a yangban.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tension settles inside him like a bow pulled taut, the arrow aimed at his heart, and he balls his hands into fists as if that might relieve it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo is as pale as the moon, as the jungchimak he wears, and Jeonghan hopes Junhui scared him.  Perhaps then he’ll agree and no one will have to die.  Seungcheol won’t die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Junhui croons in a sickly-sweet tone that must taste like ash in Wonwoo’s mouth; his almost-laughable gape twists into a scowl at it.  “If you’re as moral as you claim to be, you won’t let your friends die.  Will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gulps once more in response and chooses to say nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhui’s eyes narrow for just a moment and he orders the yangban to be placed in the brig as well; Wonshik drags him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the crowd around them disperses, tending to their duties as if nothing happened.  Except Junhui.  He catches Jeonghan’s gaze and distance fills the space between them, heavy and as wide as the sea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you really do it?” Jeonghan whispers.  “If he doesn’t agree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing on Junhui’s face changes or gives away what he might be thinking; it drives Jeonghan crazy and he wants to lose himself.  Wants to tell Junhui that he’s insane, how could he even entertain the thought of hurting Seungcheol, he’s done everything asked of him - but Jeonghan knows better.  Knows that if he hadn’t gotten tangled up in Seungcheol’s warmth and kindness, he wouldn’t spare a second thought to him now.  His purpose is to serve Junhui and this is how he will fulfill that purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it gets to that point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am a man of my word, Jeonghan,” Junhui says softly, almost regrettably.  “You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How fierce the urge to rebel is, to act like the petulant child he thinks himself to be sometimes in Junhui’s presence.  To stamp his feet and demand change with a voice as strong and loud as the wind, as the waves.  But Junhui stopped being afraid of the sea years ago and Jeonghan knows that behavior won’t get him anywhere - except, perhaps, at the receiving end of Jonghyun’s whip.  So he turns and looks out at the water, at the black glass they sail upon, trying not to think about Seungcheol, just a few decks away, so far out of his reach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moment he can, Jeonghan retires to his quarters to think, to make sense of the storm in his head and calm it so he won’t act rashly and do something he’ll regret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It works, sort of, for the time being.  He opens one of the windows his bed rests beneath and breathes in the cold sea air.  In and out, as slowly and as deeply as he can, until his skin stops itching, stops feeling so tight…  But as soon as he turns away from the window, as soon as he opens his mind again, the thoughts come tumbling back in and he wants to scream.  Wants to be in Seungcheol’s arms, wants to bury himself in him until he forgets everything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the ship is silent later that night, he’s shivery, on the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lights a lantern and heads below deck with a thrumming heart, keeping his footsteps light and quiet as he passes by the crew’s quarters.  Just in case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol is awake in the room he’s been given and Jeonghan wastes no time; the moment the door closes behind him he sets his lantern down on the table near the door - and finds himself embraced by strong arms.  They’re as familiar as the nose nuzzling its way into his neck and Jeonghan breathes in, feeling as if he’s spent the last twenty-four hours underwater.  He clings to Seungcheol with weak, aching fingers and buries his face in him.  He smells of the sea, of sweat and something warm that Jeonghan has only ever found on his skin and no one else’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol whispers.  “You’re trembling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls back and Seungcheol cups his face with calloused fingers; the moonlight touches his face so sweetly and it steals Jeonghan’s breath for just a moment.  How can he put it into words?  How can he tell Seungcheol that he is terrified of the idea of losing him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your-your damned yangban refused to help Junhui,” he manages, tightening his fingers in Seungcheol’s jeogori; the silk crinkles and gives beneath his grip and he feels unhinged.  As if he’s hanging on by a thread.  “He - and-and Junhui said that until he agrees, he’ll… he’ll…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t say it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll what, angel?” Seungcheol whispers, closing the space between them to rest his forehead on his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan makes a noise in the back of his throat and nuzzles Seungcheol’s nose, chasing more, needing more.  “He’ll… he’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> you,” he breathes, a part of him hoping it’s too quiet for Seungcheol to hear.  “All four of you.  One by one.  While he makes Wonwoo watch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol tenses, his breath hitches, and so little only confirms Jeonghan’s fears; Seungcheol doesn’t think Wonwoo will agree to help, either.  He… he thinks there’s reason for fear.  For unease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his silence, Jeonghan wilts and he grasps Seungcheol’s jeogori with white knuckles, slots his forehead against Seungcheol’s brow, and breathes shakily.  If he could just say what he feels.  If he could just allow himself to be in love with the man in front of him, holding him so tightly…  “I don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut.  “I - Seungcheol.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t.”  In the same breath, Seungcheol tilts his head up with kind fingers, seeks out his gaze with gentle appeals; </span>
  <em>
    <span>“look at me”s</span>
  </em>
  <span> that are so beseeching Jeonghan has no choice but to meet his gaze, he’d do anything for Seungcheol.  “I swear to you, you won’t.  I’ll-I’ll convince Wonwoo, I’ll change his mind, I promise you, Jeonghan.  You’re not going to lose me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The comfort in Seungcheol’s voice battles the panic in Jeonghan’s mind and he wants so badly to believe him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  And Jeonghan has never handled fear well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is always raw, always rapacious, within him.  Demanding answers and solutions and safety no matter what the cost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you trust me, Jeonghan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at Seungcheol, at the galaxies in his eyes, and nods.  Without thinking.  Trusting Seungcheol is instinctual, as easy as breathing.  The wisest and most foolish decision he’s ever made.  “Yes.  With my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol smiles enough to make Jeonghan’s heart stutter in his chest and his hand moves to cup the back of Jeonghan’s neck.  “Then believe me when I tell you that nothing bad is going to happen.  You won’t lose me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t lose you,” he repeats in a soft breath, and their noses brush again, they’re so close Jeonghan can almost taste him.  He wants to.  Wants to spiral in him, in the warmth of his kisses and his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His name is reverent on Seungcheol’s lips, on his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Touch me,” Jeonghan whispers back, wanting to say so much more but he cannot.  He feels rubbed raw, vulnerable, like he will fall apart - there is too much out of his control but </span>
  <em>
    <span>this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> this is something he can rely on.  Seungcheol is something he can rely on.  “I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Seungcheol whispers back, fingers cupping his face, and they catch strands of Jeonghan’s hair in their urgency - tilting Jeonghan’s head back until their mouths meet -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes in sharply the moment they kiss, the moment he tastes him, the moment he feels whole, and something in him scrambles, tries to find his footing before he falls deeper than he ever wanted to.  But it’s no use; as soon as Seungcheol moves his hands down his body and hoists him up, Jeonghan lets go.  Winds his legs around Seungcheol’s hips and holds tight as Seungcheol stumbles across the room to the bed.  The waves rocking the ship don’t help his already staggered steps and they fall together, a breathless, giggling heap on the sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Devotion shines in Seungcheol’s eyes and glints off of his slick lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s laughter dies down into a smile, fingers winding in Seungcheol’s hair to bring him closer, ever closer, he’s never close enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They undress slower than they came together, with reverent hands and worshipping kisses.  Seungcheol bites yearning into Jeonghan’s skin, skin he hasn’t marked in months, tracing the path the moonlight leaves as it spills in through the windows.  And Jeonghan lets him.  Every touch calms his nerves and invades his thoughts until he feels nothing and hears nothing and tastes nothing except Seungcheol.  Until he is all Jeonghan knows: the curve of his back, the ridges of his spine, the tension in his muscles and the way they twitch beneath his skin, beneath Jeonghan’s fingertips.  Breath that comes quicker and quicker with each kiss, soft moans lost to the moonlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they’ve barely begun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is usually never like this, and the thought almost scares Jeonghan into crawling away, putting his walls up; Seungcheol is rough with him.  Pinning him between his strong body and the mattress, preparing him just enough to make the slide easier, words rough and dirty - if he talks at all.  Jeonghan knows he is just a body to Seungcheol, a warm bed, warm arms, perhaps even companionship when it’s over and Seungcheol’s too worn to leave, Jeonghan’s too tired to kick him out -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But twelve weeks apart corrupted something in him, in both of them.  It made them weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made them </span>
  <em>
    <span>ache.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan remembers the nights he spent lying awake alone, on this very ship, longing for Seungcheol’s voice as much as his touch.  Sometimes he saw his sweet eyes on strangers in Ningpo and he wanted to find him, be beside him - he would have sailed the entire world searching for Seungcheol, if that is what it would have taken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you”</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he can’t.  Fear chokes the words back before they can even reach his tongue so he lets his body say it instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders if Seungcheol knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oil-coated fingers press so knowingly against his insides, opening him up as slow as they can.  Slick, warm lips trace his shoulder blades and spine and every mark that life has left on his body; paths they have traced countless times and Jeonghan never wants them to stop.  He wants Seungcheol to memorize every inch of him, carve out his existence with these touches so that Jeonghan won’t forget him even when they are apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol asks if he’s ready with a kiss pressed to his ear, free hand skimming Jeonghan’s arm until it finds fingers tensed in the sheets.  He takes hold of them, strokes them, loosens them, and Jeonghan nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you,” he breathes, as if they’re the only words he can speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol twists his wrist, feeling so deep inside him -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-now, Seungcheol,” he whispers brokenly, as pleasure shivers hotly in his veins, “please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol withdraws his fingers and lays on his side behind Jeonghan, but immediately pulls him back against him like he can’t stand to not be touching him.  His lips dance across Jeonghan’s neck, tracing the outline of his ear; his leg slots between his, brushing achingly against Jeonghan’s untouched cock, opening him up; Seungcheol’s hand holds his hip tightly, biting into the skin hard enough to bruise as he presses against his opening -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s body tenses in lust, in illicit anticipation.  Sparks singe his skin and he reaches behind him as Seungcheol enters him, fingers sliding into thick hair already damp with sweat -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gasp that leaves his lips sounds so wrecked to his own ears and he can’t believe Seungcheol has managed to burrow so deep under his skin like, after only a year and a half of knowing him.  He has found the emptiness Jeonghan thought he’d hidden away and consumed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jeonghan let him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so tight,” Seungcheol whispers, a heavy breath right into his ear, and he shivers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, the stretch is perhaps more than it should be, burns more than it ought to - but as much as his mind forgot what it is like to have Seungcheol inside him, his body never did, and he presses back against Seungcheol to spur him on.  He wants and needs more than he can comprehend but Seungcheol understands, of course he does.  They’re made for each other, in body and soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, so it seems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t-haven’t had anyone since the last time we had sex,” he breathes in explanation though none is needed, head sagging into the pillows as he is claimed by the one man that ever stood a chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”  Seungcheol’s fingers tease his skin, blazing a trail of heat towards his chest.  “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I - “  He chokes on the gasp that rises up his throat the moment Seungcheol strokes over his nipples, and the words die on his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol touches him so easily, as though he is unconcerned with the consequences of his actions, </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> actions.  As if he doesn’t know that each brush of his fingertips is burned into Jeonghan’s skin.  He sucks his affection into the back of Jeonghan’s neck, no doubt leaving a mark, fingers teasing his nipples, cock hard and hot inside him…  “Why haven’t you had anyone else, angel?” he murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan scrapes his fingernails against Seungcheol’s scalp, in a punishment he doesn’t mean.  Seungcheol’s too close for comfort, too close to his heart, to the very core of him and he can’t take it, wants him gone as much as he wants Seungcheol to know all of him.  “Because I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> anyone else,” he whispers, dragging his hips up -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Seungcheol chases him, presses him back against his body until he’s flush inside him.  Nuzzles Jeonghan’s ear with a soft moan that sounds throughout Jeonghan’s chest, echoing with every beat of his heart.  “I don’t want anyone else either.  Fuck, I missed you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show me,” Jeonghan whispers, and he shifts as best as he can to meet Seungcheol’s gaze.  The stars in his eyes are as bright as they’ve ever been, and they threaten to burst and catch fire and swallow them both.  “Show me how much you missed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches up to touch Jeonghan’s face, to brush the little scars embedded in his skin, and Jeonghan closes his eyes as his heart twists in his chest.  “Jeonghan, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He silences Seungcheol with a kiss that’s more of a touch of their lips than anything else.  But it does the trick; when they pull back Seungcheol thrusts, slow and deep, and Jeonghan doesn’t remember when he last took a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lose themselves like this; in the push and pull of their bodies, in the moonlight dancing across their skin, in the yearning they burn into the other with kisses and touches.  Lethargic thrusts that find the most sensitive part of his body every time set Jeonghan aflame and he lolls back against Seungcheol’s body, lets himself be taken and claimed.  Like this, they are not enemies designed to hate each other.  They are two people, lost in a tangle of limbs and sheets and sweat and heavy breaths; they are lovers, pretending to be something they aren’t, and Seungcheol holds his heart with a grip that will leave it wounded if he ever lets go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan hopes he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take either of them long to orgasm; Jeonghan gasps when he comes into Seungcheol’s fist, wrapped so tightly around his cock, coaxed from him with words as sweet as they are dirty, and Seungcheol spills warm inside him on a choked moan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay like that, Seungcheol still inside him, holding Jeonghan as tightly as he can.  He is hot and sweaty and breathless but Jeonghan doesn’t care, not when this is all he’s been wanting for weeks.  So he presses back against him, lets Seungcheol warm his neck with kisses, and falls into himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could he not adore a man like Seungcheol?  As kind as he is passionate, with more love in his heart than he should have.  And somehow, it is all for Jeonghan.  Every last bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never let anything happen to you,” Jeonghan whispers, as if to the rest of the room, and he’s grateful that Seungcheol rests behind him; this way, their eyes don’t meet and Jeonghan isn’t scared into silence by the intensity in his lover’s gaze.  Like he is sometimes.  “If Junhui touches you, I’ll stop him.  I’ll - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you won’t.”  He breathes it into Jeonghan’s skin and sighs heavily.  “Should worse come to worst, you have to promise me that you won’t step in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan scoffs and shifts, as best as he can, onto his back so he can look Seungcheol in the eyes and tell him how foolish he is for even </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span> that.  But as soon as he meets his gaze, the words die in his throat.  The sadness he finds in Seungcheol’s features wounds him.  “Seungcheol…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not throwing your life away for me,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb across Jeonghan’s lips.  The press of it is teasing, hesitant, like Seungcheol is scared to touch him.  “Because if you try and fight Junhui on this, we both know he won’t take it well.  And I’m not worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes you are,” he breathes before he can stop himself, and he twists out of Seungcheol’s grasp.  Sits up to clear his head, to gather his thoughts, to look out the window at the endless sea around them.  His hair tumbles down his shoulder, half-tugged from its braid, and Seungcheol sweeps it back.  Reaches up a gentle hand to tuck the locks behind Jeonghan’s ear, and he can’t look at him.  “I missed you more than I could bear, and now… now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol sits up too and draws Jeonghan back into his arms; chin on Jeonghan’s shoulder, he follows his gaze out the window and sighs heavily.  “I missed you too.  More than I ever thought I would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan closes his eyes as Seungcheol’s breath warms his neck and he doesn’t want to talk anymore.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk anymore because he’ll say something he’ll regret.  So he leans back against Seungcheol and tries to swallow down the listlessness that threatens; he can only hope the yangban will do as Junhui asks.  That fate won’t take Seungcheol away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though it should.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>let me know what you guys thought!!  thank you for reading! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you guys so much for reading, and please let me know what you thought!  i hope you're all as excited about this as i am!</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/scoups__ahoy">twt</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/scoups__ahoy">cc</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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